The Bond in the Boot the tags
by Bond.Jane
Summary: A few short drabbles on The Bond in the Boot
1. Of boys and men

**Author's note: Yep, I really liked this episode. Really. And after watching, I couldn't get any sleep. So I put pen to paper, which is to say, fingers to keyboard and this is the result.**

**Also, thank you to MickeyBoggs who is always there- no matter the time of day. Or night. Stardust!**

**Enjoy.**

**Jane  
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Of boys and men

_Old? He was old? Snap!_ And he did. He snapped. And it could have been worse. That boy that still smelled of diapers could have found himself with his Department of State head shoved where the sun doesn't shine. But this was the privilege of age: he could hold himself in check- not even mechanical clowns were in danger anymore.

He wouldn't take it personally though. The boy seemed to have a problem with most any age. Sweets was too young, he was too old. Still, the echo of the word was enough set the alarm of his biological clock. Wasn't that a female issue? Damn, he could deal with it. He was older. _Older._ Then he smiled at himself. To himself. Old age is no place for sissies.


	2. Pennies from Heaven

Pennies from heaven

The more she lived, the more institutions disappointed her. Which was nothing her dad hadn't warned about. Living a clean life is exponentially related to the monetary opportunities life throws at you. Wendell did remarkably well considering. He was clean, good. Innocent. So Cam pulled all the strings with the trust board she could. And for every string she pulled, she'd come up with a hand full of nothing. So she dipped the only place she knew was left- the cookie jar, the piggy bank, the place under the mattress. She'd pulled from her emergency fund. This was indeed an emergency. And sent an anonymous donation.

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This was why Hodgins hadn't wanted people knowing about his family connection- because now, when the going got tough, the tough turned to him. And he was nothing if not discrete about the ugly money stuff. So the donation had been anonymous. He could keep on going out with the young Wendell- who could have, in some alternative universe, been him- and get drunk and meet nice friends because there was no onus between them. Money was only as good as the good it did.

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Her dad was Texan. Texans are overprotective of their young daughters. Ergo, she had struggled and rebelled and fought tooth and nail for her independence. So apart from a few misguided years during her twenties- and hey, what do we know when we're twenty- Angela had lived resolutely within her means, bravely ignoring the Pearly Gates Trust Fund. And she was so proud of that feat. But this was Wendell and she was a sucker for the vulnerable type. So she swallowed her pride and wrote the check. Wasn't everyone saying on the news that money should be invested, that under the current economic climate, banking was not a money wise solution? She'd invest it then. Wendell was a good investment.

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What would Booth do- if he had the money, that is? He'd help Mr Bray. No second thoughts. And he'd do it discretely, so that no favors were owed. Brennan wasn't good at dealing with gratitude. Besides, how could she lose a single one more? Hadn't Zach been enough of a loss, enough of a heart ache? She'd learned her lesson-she would care for her own. And it was no small thing that Wendell was the one that most resembled Booth- in his heart, in his concerns, even in his incipient alpha male tendencies. And Booth really liked him. Respected him. So she had her accountant transfer the money. Wendell was staying home.

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He'd had his miracle- when he'd won the first scholarship. So he should be grateful and just move on. But when time came to say good bye, it took all he had. Families came in all sorts of guises and this was the one he'd chosen. This wasn't just his future that he was going to miss. He was going to miss them. More than he could tell them now. So when he got his second miracle he was more grateful than ever because he knew where it was coming from. But he was far more grateful to Dr Brennan for her clear orders. Do. And doing was all he could get through right now.


	3. What Lies Between Us

What lies between us

_And after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but_

_The truth in masquerade_

Lord Byron

"I'm glad we don't have any secrets." Ah, sure they don't. Except that huge purple elephant in the room they booth and each chooses to ignore. They hold each other's hands and they hold each other's gaze and the moment is ripe with subtext but, hey, _we're not doing anything and we're not lying_. The best lies are told in silence when honest hands hold each other over old plumbing that insists on telling the truth with a spray of water: it was just a trickle, but the moment they both touched it, it burst forth and was uncontainable. Ah, the wonder of the prosaic metaphors of every day life. They smile at each other because they both know that the lie has short legs and truth always runs faster. Are they afraid of that moment? Hell yes. But this time they're not running.


	4. Plumbing for Imbeciles Part 1

Plumbing for imbeciles- part 1

She actually thought Sweets had a point. Not that she would ever tell him. Or maybe she would. She hardly recognized herself these days. So she called all her usual haunts chasing the book. Out of print. Out of stock. Almost out of patience. But Booth needed the book because he needed to feel whole again. And that he would accomplish doing a menial job after reading a book for imbeciles. She went to a used book shop and found it after raking through endless shelves of dusty books for imbeciles and other abandoned books. It took her a whole afternoon for something she could have sent one of her many interns or grad students. But this was Booth. And that was enough said.


	5. Plumbing for Imbeciles Part 2

Plumbing for imbeciles- part 2

They're lying on the floor intently studying the plumbing. She's gorgeous and he's virile and they're in love but they're not. They lie but they trade in honesty. Any good plumber will tell that the plumbing is only as good as the glue holding it together. They observed the diagrams in the book, made sure it was the same under the sink. Then carefully set to work. Together. There was something satisfying about DIY. You got to see the result of your efforts. He instructs and she executes under his watchful eyes. There is tenderness in that moment and they bask in it, warming up in it, no sin there. Just two people working together, common purpose. They hold the pipe together, they give it time for the glue to set under the heat their hands generate together. It looks fine. They're confident of success. Maybe everything is this easy in life.

But the moment they let go, the whole things falls apart. Bad omen?

No. They just have to work at it a bit longer, put some more good, honest-to-God glue. The plumbing is only as strong as the glue holding it.


	6. It's a boyfriend girlfriend thing

It's boyfriend/ girlfriend thing

Wait, wait, wait! She paid their breakfast. He pays the book she picked up for him, because, hey, God forbid that his virility be questioned in that way. They are spending each other's money, they are talking budget. She checks after a nick in his arm, because hey, men are sissies and their women need to take care of them. They do plumbing together, in the kitchen, the heart of the home. It's not fireworks or explosions of heat. It's not tidal waves of emotion or volcanoes erupting. It's not fast, it's not furious. It's just tranquil, like her pink sweater and soft make up and her utterly feminine form laying on the floor or his arm over her, an embrace. His hand over hers. It's not a beginning. Beginning is a single moment. It's the comfort of a hard-worked-for comfortable, sustainable intimacy. How much more intimate can it get?


	7. Notice

**Author's note: **

**This not a new chapter- sorry, guys- though there is a new one. It is very M rated so it was published as a one shot under the name Plumbing for Imbeciles- part 3.**

**Jane**


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